HalfCrazy
by Witchyprincess
Summary: A romancehumor that follows Trunks as he learns to fall in love with love and get over his commitment issues. TP
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball/Z/GT, at all. Not the characters or the ideas associated with it. I'm only going to say it this once. The only thing I own is this plot. Suing would be a waste of time, I'm 19 and immensely poor.

**Detailed Summary:** _It's easy to fall in love; the hardest part is learning to trust someone else to love you back_. A romance/humor that follows Trunks as he learns to fall in love with love and get over his commitment issues. Pan, who has always been in his life, is beginning to take on a new position in his heart. Will he embrace what he knows is right or give into his own fears? Will things go wrong and, if they do, will there be a way to fix it all in the end?

**Story Warning:** The chapters are shorter than anything I've ever done because I've been trying to limit myself and, honestly, I just don't think I have that much to write about this anymore. I've learned that shorter sometimes is better, but I don't know if you'll agree with me in this case. **The story is entitled _Half-Crazy _for a reason**. This isn't like anything else I've ever done and if you don't like it after the first few chapters, though it will start to get more serious later on, I advise that you just stop reading and don't bother giving me gripe about how you don't like it. This was the only thing that kept me from falling into a pit of writer's block insanity, so read it just for enjoyment or get over it. _I'm serious_.

Half-Crazy  
Rated for language/situations  
_WitchyPrincess_

Pan hadn't always been attracted to Trunks, though looking back she couldn't understand how she had missed it. He was taller than her, but not too tall, just the perfect height. His eyes matched the color of the sky during clear summer days. His smile was like nothing she had ever experienced before and her entire world was different the first time he truly directed that smile at her. Not to mention his smell, which was the definition of perfect.

It was probably because he had always been there, always a shoulder when she needed one, that she didn't notice. He had been another uncle of sorts, though they held no relation. And she knew she was like a little sister to him. Those platonic feelings of love had always been mutual and had never been a burden. She didn't start looking at him, in fact, as an actual _man_ until her early twenties, and even then it was less than romantic and purely physical.

It was easy to take him for granted because there had never been anything between them and she had never hoped there would be. Of course, in her young teens, she had flirted and admired him with the best of them but that was only because she was fanciful at that age and didn't even take herself seriously. So he hadn't minded at all, nor had he encouraged her. And that had never hurt her feelings before; they had always been the best of friends, and only friends.

But somewhere in her middle twenties, she couldn't exactly point out where, things had started to gravitate in the other direction. She began to see him, to really see him for who he was, and suddenly being his friend became a little more difficult. She realized that she was attracted to him the day his fingers brushed a strand of hair out of her face and set an entire gang of butterflies loose in her stomach.

She knew then that things were going to get difficult and tried her best to keep everything unchanged.

_To be continued..._


	2. Long Lunches and Video Game Champions

Half-Crazy  
**Long Lunches and Video-Game Champions  
**Rated for language/situations  
_WitchyPrincess_

"So what do you want?" He questioned for what had to have been the fifteenth time. Pan glared, sighed, and rolled her eyes all in the span of five seconds.

"Trunks, if you don't _leave_ me _alone_ I'm-"

"You are alone, Pan," he joked, gently ribbing her with his elbow. "Be careful what you ask for."

"You, big brother, are an asshole. It's not polite to remind a lady of that sort of thing." Bra intervened, setting her menu down on the table while glaring across at her brother.

"Well," Trunks grinned, winking at Pan as he pulled the lemon out of his tea. "It's a good thing that she's not a lady, then."

"Trunks, could you take five seconds to stop acting like such a jerk and,"

"Bra, why don't you leave me and Pan alone since we're not bothering,"

"Why don't the _both_ of you stop bickering like brother and sister and let me _think_?" Pan intervened, looking over to Landon for some form of help. "Can't you control your girlfriend?" She pleaded raising her eyebrows at him.

Landon laughed, shaking his head and holding his hands up in defense. "No more than you can. You know Bra better than most, Pan, if she wants to argue then she's going to argue."

Trunks and Bra were still bickering in the background. Pan sighed again and slammed her menu down loud enough to stop the both of them from talking to each other.

"Fine. I've decided." She announced when she was sure Trunks was staring at her expectantly.

"Yes?" He asked with his annoyingly arrogant smirk.

"I'm going to have the special." She informed, glaring at him. "Now call the waitress over here."

"Finally, we can eat!" He exclaimed, holding up a hand to signal the waitress, who rushed over the second she made eye contact with Trunks.

"Are you ready to order now?" She asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes wildly in Trunks' direction. She switched the weight of her body from one hip to the other as she took out her pen and pad, swinging her silky cinnamon hair over her shoulder in the process.

"Yes," Trunks told her, either oblivious to her actions or uninterested. "I'll have the steak and potato meal with A1 sauce on the side, medium-well. And she'll," he continued, pointing at Pan while giving her an exasperated look. "Have today's special with a salad, not soup, and thousand island dressing. She'll take the fries as her extra side, with chilly and cheese on top."

He stopped, looking over to his sister and her boyfriend expectantly. Bra didn't even pause as she ordered her food, but it took Landon a moment before he regained his thinking process. He hadn't been out with Trunks and Pan together before so he wasn't used to this sort of thing.

When the waitress went away both Pan and Bra gave Trunks teasing looks. They turned to each other and puckered up their lips–Bra was sitting right across from Pan–making kissing sounds as they played along. Pan flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder and stuck out her chest, Bra batted her eye-lashes and gave Pan adoring looks.

"Oh Trunks," Bra intoned. "You're so dreamy."

"I can't do my job for staring at you," Pan continued. "I'll never be the same again."

They burst into laughter before Trunks could say a word to defend himself. He was too busy giving them baffled, though slightly amused, looks to say anything though.

"Pan, darling, I never knew you felt that way," He mocked when they were done, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her. Pan smirked.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice she was hitting on you," Pan challenged. "I mean, she did everything but drop her number in your lap."

"Actually..." Trunks trailed off, sliding closer to Pan so that she could see over him to where the number lay. "I think she thought that we were together, so she didn't want you to see." Trunks winked at her.

"That little bitch," Pan exclaimed. "I'm offended simply because of principle."

Bra started laughing but Landon gave each of them questioning looks.

"Excuse me for being the only confused one here," Landon broke in, his silver eyes displaying uncertainty. "But I thought you two _weren't_ together."

Trunks, who had finally started sucking on the lemon in his hand, almost choked on it. Pan raised both her eyebrows in concern. "We're not." She protested after a second, dignified unease in her voice.

"What the hell would make you think we were?" Trunks regained himself enough to ask.

"Well, gee, I don't know," Landon responded sarcastically. "Perhaps all the bantering and teasing. I mean, maybe it's just me but...Oh, and the ordering thing. That was odd."

"What ordering thing?" Pan and Trunks asked, almost in sync.

"Well, you told him that you wanted the special, but that was it. And then he ordered everything for you."

"Okay doc, stop analyzing everything," Pan laughed. Landon was a psychiatrist. "He's known me my whole life. I'm predictable, it didn't require much to know what I was going to order."

Landon didn't challenge it, but he wasn't convinced either. Trunks had known Bra her entire life but he hadn't ordered for her. This was a date whether they wanted to admit it or not. He hadn't spent seven years of his life studying how to read people's actions and words for their actual meaning to not know what was going on in front of him right now. He knew enough, however, to keep his thoughts to himself.

"So, Landon," Trunks started after a moment of silence. "How's opening your own office going?"

"Well actually," Landon smiled. "I've found a place and we're working out the final details. I should have it opened and operating before the spring."

Trunks nodded, setting the lemon on his napkin, and looked up at Landon with solemn eyes. "You seem to have everything together," he told him in a heavy tone. Landon's eyes changed from happy and at ease to guarded in a second.

"Yes..." he nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking," Trunks paused, giving the man a hard look. "What the hell are you doing with my sister?"

Pan started cracking up, Landon's shoulders un-tensed, and Bra let out a slight squeak. She picked up her roll and tossed it at Trunks' head with impeccable aim.

"You jerk, how dare you,"

"I was just wondering, I mean, you guys have been together for what? Seven months? When's he going to wake up and smell the,"

"Who are you to talk? Mr. I Don't Have a Girlfriend? You don't know what you're,"

"Coffee? It was only a question, there's no need to become angry. I was simply,"

"Talking about. I mean, when was the last time you got laid, anyway? You,"

"Trying to hold civilized conversation with my sister's boyfriend. Hey, what's that supposed to mean? I have plenty of sex, thank you very much,"

"Wouldn't remember what a real woman felt like if one plopped down in your lap. And, ew, I didn't need to actually _know_ how much sex you did or did not have, Trunks that's,"

"Sure I'd know a real woman. Here, Pan, plop in my lap," he patted his lap playfully, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. "And if you don't want to know the answer to a question, you shouldn't ask it. Don't be,"

"Disgusting!"

"Disgusted now."

Pan rolled her eyes, again, and covered her ears. This was going to be a long lunch. Where the hell was the waitress with their food?

It was fifteen more minutes before their food got there and another thirty-five before they finished eating, paid the bill and tip, and were out of there. Pan said her goodbye to Landon and Bra before promising to see Trunks later then headed home to get a few papers graded before Monday's class.

She was a History professor at Orange Star University and had been for the last two years. Coming out of high school, she hadn't known what she wanted to do, only that she wanted to major in History, and found that education came easy to her. She was good with learning the facts and even better at grading exams; she enjoyed making the lesson plans and she loved teaching those who wanted to learn. That was how she knew she had to teach in a college. She didn't want any children who didn't want to learn. Graduating early had it's advantages in that account, it meant she could get her education degree early and it was just that much simpler to become a professor and not a high-school teacher.

She hadn't regretted her decision a day since she'd made it. She didn't imagine that she ever would.

* * *

She walked into her apartment and immediately dropped her keys onto the kitchen counter. Kicking off her shoes, she walked into her study and picked up the stack of papers with a slight wince. She honestly wasn't in the mood to grade anything today. 

For the life of her, she couldn't imagine what had possessed her to assign a paper for both her classes due so closely together. The papers that she had graded during the weekend to have ready for Monday's class had taken her some of Friday, most of Saturday and all of Sunday to get through. And now she had to do it all over again. The week had started off chaotic and it was only becoming more condensed. The only reason she could come up with was that Spring Break was on the way. But that was still a good month away. There was no reason for her to be overwhelmed, she was the professor.

But she was and that was the honest truth of it. It was Wednesday and she had to get these papers back to her Thursday class so that they could make their revisions. She was giving them a second chance on these papers, this one time. Looking over the sloppy work, she decided right then that she would never tell them that kind of thing ahead of time ever again. Clearly, there was no effort put into these things.

She was tempted to throw the whole stack down and just make them re-write them. She was also tempted to take them all for a grade and then make them re-write them. But that would be too cruel for her standards. If only she hadn't told them beforehand.

The ring of her telephone disturbed her train of thought so badly that she nearly jumped off the couch. Drawing in a breath, she laughed lightly at herself, and leaned over to pick up the phone.

"Talk to me," she commanded, pen placed behind her ear, eyes still glued to the paper in front of her.

"Put everything that you're busy with away and head over to my house." A deep voice demanded from the other line.

"Can't. Class tomorrow."

"Must. I command."

"Grading papers."

"Mario Tennis."

She put the paper down and tilted her head. "No fair." She pouted.

"Ten minutes." And they both clicked off their phones. She brushed all the papers into her briefcase, pulled the clip out of her hair and the pen from behind her ear and placed them on the table, grabbed her case and headed for the kitchen. She jumped around until her feet fell into her shoes and then grabbed her keys with her free hand. Turning off the light on her way out, she shut and locked the door and then headed towards her car.

She was there with two minutes to spare. Trunks' place was the closest to hers and they had been ribbed for their close living quarters for weeks after she moved into her apartment. Everyone made at least one joke about how she chose her apartment simply to be close to Trunks and, nearly three years later, she still hadn't heard the end of the jokes. Anytime someone thought enough to bring it up, the round of jokes started all over again.

She let herself in, she had a set of keys because she took care of his place whenever he went away on business trips–she was still being made fun of about that set of keys too–and headed into his bedroom. There was already pizza sitting on the coffee table and the game system was set up. He had a sitting area in the far left corner of his room where he had positioned a television, couch, and table for gaming purposes. She could hear him rummaging around in the bathroom and could only assume that he was just getting out of the shower.

He came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth–he brushed his teeth at least three times a day, he was anal about those kinds of things. She swallowed hard and reminded herself not to look down at his chest...or anything below his chest...before an easy smirk fell onto her lips.

"If you had told me you were going to shower I would have waited an hour before coming by." Her smirk turned into a half-grin as she shook her head and wrinkled her nose. "You could have used the extra time."

"Shut-up book nerd," he responded after pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Who told you to come with your work?" His eyes traveled down to the briefcase in her hands with disdain. "I'm not helping you with that, you know. _And _you were two minutes early."

"I left right after you called and if you expect me to play any games with you, you _are_ going to help me Trunks Vegeta Briefs."

"There's no need to resort to full-name calling." He pouted, running his tongue over his newly cleaned teeth. She made herself not see that too. "Go change clothes while I get dressed. I'm not playing anything with you while you look like that."

She had a myriad of dirty comments that could have followed that statement but bit them all back as she rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

She knew the answer, of course. She was wearing a navy-blue business suit and blazer with matching blue pumps. She hadn't intended to keep the clothes on but it was the fact that he was commenting on them that made her challenging.

He gave her a 'look' but didn't answer, turning instead and heading back into the bathroom to get dressed. She shrugged and headed over to his wardrobe, knowing that it would be just as easy to steal his clothes as it would be to get her own. She had a dresser full of stuff at his house, in one of the spare bedrooms that she had claimed as her own, but she liked to wear his clothes just to tick him off.

She stole a light blue business shirt and a pair of yellow gym shorts that were bound to hang off her hips and didn't match in any way. It was going to drive him crazy all night, he hated things that didn't match. She smirked and quickly squirmed out of her clothes and into his, not at all concerned that Trunks could walk in while she was changing. She buttoned up three of the middle buttons on his shirt and moved to sit down on the couch. He came out right before she plopped down on the chair.

"What are you doing?" He asked slowly, his tone suggesting the annoyance that his eyes didn't show.

"Sittin' down." She informed without looking at him, reaching for a slice of pizza.

He snorted but didn't comment. Walking over to the pile of clothes that she had left on the floor, he picked them up and gave her a discouraging look that she didn't see because she wasn't facing him. Shaking his head, he folded up her work clothes and placed them neatly on his bed, mumbling about how messy she was.

"Your two minutes are up, Briefs." Pan informed him, bitting into the pizza and looking back at him with a smile that suggested she had heard his mumbles and found them amusing. And she had.

"I'm coming, stop being so impatient. And use a napkin or I'll have to kill you."

"You'll have to kill me to get me to use a napkin with _pizza_ Trunks." She complained as he took a seat beside her.

"Shut-up and start the game." She sighed, grabbed the remote, and flipped it to AV while he grabbed his controller. Putting her slice of pizza down on the table, without a napkin under it to Trunks' disgust, she picked up her own controller and turned in the couch, swinging her legs up so that her feet rested in his lap.

"I'm going to whip you, I hope you know."

He adjusted his body so that she was in a more comfortable position, shook his head, and rested his arms on her ankles. "In your dreams, Pan, in your dreams."

"I will. And when I do, you're going to help me grade these papers."

"Deal." He stated confidently, sure that Pan was going to lose and he would have gotten out of helping her. He had been practicing.

She was true to her word however, and seven games later she was hopping around the room yelling "Who's yo' daddy?" in a commanding voice while he was grumbling and marking the historical errors on one of the papers from the stack. He hated it the most when she was right about something.

_To be continued..._


	3. More Music and Less Talk

Half-Crazy  
**More Music and Less Talk**  
Rated for language/situations  
_WitchyPrincess_

"Stop touching my CD player Pan or I'm going to make you walk the rest of the way."

"Trunks, I'm not afraid of you. You can't make me do anything I don't want to do." She mashed the skip button again, bypassing his favorite song on the CD. He clenched his jaw but kept his mouth shut. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to share?"

"I was an only child for thirteen years. What do you think?" He pushed her hand away from the controls and went back to track four.

"Hey, keep your damn eyes on the road."

"I'm serious, Pan, I'm going to pull this car over, walk around to your side and pull you out of it. You're getting on my nerves."

"I can't get on your nerves Trunks, I'm your most favorite person in the world. And this is an SUV, not a car."

"When I stop at the gas station, you're switching seats with Goten."

"You don't mean it." And she skipped the song again.

Trunks sighed, forcing himself not to pull over on the highway, and kept his eyes straight forward. He wanted to reach his hand out and whop her across the back of the head so badly he didn't think he'd be able to control himself.

"Pan, don't you think you need to ease up on him?" Goten chimed in, leaning up so that his head rested in the middle space between the two front seats.

"Why should I? I hate that song and he knows I hate that song. Just because it's his favorite doesn't mean the rest of us have to listen to it five times in one week."

"The rest of us haven't heard it five times this week. Only you because you _live_ with him." Paris teased, raising a mocking eyebrow.

"Oh why don't you shut-up?" Pan pouted. "I'm so _sick_ of all of you people. So what if I spend most of my free time in his house, have a key, a room, and my own closet full of clothes. That doesn't qualify as living somewhere...Okay, now I sound ridiculous to even me..."

"You'd make a horrible lawyer." Trunks chimed in, going back to his song. "Touch this stereo system and I really will make you switch seats with Goten when I stop. I'm serious."

"You're never serious."

"I'm serious."

Pan rolled her eyes but she didn't make a reach for the stereo. Paris started snickering.

"What's so funny?" Pan snapped, knowing what Paris was laughing at. "I think this song is growing on me. That's the only reason why I didn't change it."

"_Sure_." Paris nodded. "You're not whipped at all." Pan turned in her seat so that Paris could plainly see her scowl.

"That's not funny."

"I'm serious. You two act more like a married couple than me and Goten. It's scary."

"The girl's got a point, Trunks." Goten joined in, smiling.

"Shut-up." Trunks said without taking his eyes off the road. His fingers were tapping the beat to the song playing and he was trying not to pay any attention to either of them.

"Why the hell are you so grumpy today?" Pan snapped, though the laughter was still in her eyes. "You've been moping since you picked me up this morning. Is there something you need to tell the rest of us?"

"I'm stopping for gas now." He told them as he turned onto the exit. "And when I get back in the car I want you in the backseat with Paris. Is that understood?"

"You're not my father smarty-pants." She stuck out her tongue and crossed her arms, glaring at him as he pulled up to a pump. "If you want me to move you're going to have to pick me up and carry me away. I had to fight for shotgun and I'm not giving it up."

"Being around you is like having a four year old." Trunks complained, giving her a sour look.

She smirked. "You love me."

"You annoy me."

"Yes. But you love me anyway. Now tell me what's wrong."

"What makes you think anything's wrong? Isn't it possible that I just don't want to have to fight with you every five minutes for the rest of the drive to the park?"

"No."

He hefted a sigh and got out of the car, slamming the door afterwards. Pan scoffed and slammed her body into the back of the chair, crossing her arms and poking out her lower lip. "I can throw a temper tantrum too." She pouted, though she knew Trunks couldn't hear her.

"Were we like that during our 'sexual tension' phase?" Paris whispered to Goten, loud enough for Pan to hear it. She was smiling broadly when Pan turned around in her seat to give the girl another glare.

"I don't think so. But then, Trunks and Pan have the worst tempers of anybody I know, so..."

"It kind of makes me want to lock them in a closet somewhere until they work it out of their systems. How did we get stuck with them on this trip?"

"We drew straws, remember? Bra and Landon got to ride with Marron and Ubuu. That's life sweetheart." He pecked his wife on the lips before grinning innocently at Pan. "Yes?"

"Are you two done talking about me like I'm not sitting in the car? And what do you mean, you picked straws? Tell me you're kidding, right. _No one_ wanted to ride with me and Trunks?"

Paris and Goten shared a look but didn't respond.

"Okay. Fine. We hate all of you too. And this is not what you call 'sexual tension,' this is what you call a jerk C.E.O. and his best friend getting on each other's nerves. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Of course." Both Goten and Paris agreed as Trunks got back into the SUV, grumbling.

"Leave your bad mood outside, would you?" Pan teased, more serious than joking. "I'm no longer in the mood."

"Aren't you supposed to be in the backseat?" He questioned as he switched the car back on. She turned the music up to drown out his voice.

* * *

"Someone save me." Paris called out as she stretched her body, heading for Marron's car with a desperate look on her face. 

"It couldn't have been that bad." Marron laughed, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"You have _no_ idea how bad it was." Paris exclaimed. "I wanted to tell them to just pull over for a few minutes and, while Goten and I closed our eyes and covered our ears, they take care of that little problem of theirs. I swear. They either need to do each other or somebody else because it's becoming fatal."

Marron cracked up, sneaking a look at Trunks and Pan, who were still arguing with one another about something or other, standing next to his black SUV. Pan had her arms crossed and her feet spread apart, glaring up at Trunks, her long hair tied into a ponytail that hung almost to her hips. Trunks' hands were on his hips, his own legs spread apart, squinting down at Pan because the sun was directly in his face. They were talking at the same time.

"Sucks for you guys," Bra laughed, climbing out of Marron's red Honda. "But Landon and I won fair and square."

"So let me get this straight," Landon came around the car to stand next to his girlfriend. "Everyone thinks that Pan and Trunks have something going on but no one says anything about it in anything more than a joking fashion. Is that right?"

Both women nodded, smirks in place.

"And this is because...?"

"They don't listen to reason. Never have, never will. We'll just let them play it out by themselves. They'll come around eventually." Bra informed. "And, for the record, it's okay for us to tease them about it because they're used to us. But for you to do it, like at dinner last week, will only piss them off. So, please, don't."

Landon nodded. "Duly noted."

"Now let's go separate them before they bite each other's heads off." Marron suggested, heading over to Pan and Trunks.

"All I'm saying is that you could at least _pretend_ to not be so damn,"

"Pan, can't you just accept the fact that you're annoying and stop trying to,"

"Hey!" Marron interrupted, making both of their sentences come to an abrupt halt. "Go to your separate corners and cool down. You can have round three later. When we're not around and it isn't in public, okay?"

"Fine." Pan agreed, uncrossing her arms. "But I'm not talking to him for the rest of the day."

"The rest of the day's an awful long time, Potato-Chip." Trunks teased, pinching one of her cheeks in an attempt to goad her into breaking her declaration before she even started upholding it.

Her entire face lit with red but she clenched down on her jaw instead of responding and turned abruptly on her heel, away from him. Chuckling, he followed after her to the entrance of the amusement park.

"Five dollars says that she'll be broken in twenty minutes or less." Ubuu insisted, waving a five.

"Fifteen dollars on an hour." Goten took him up on it. Marron and Bra rolled their eyes and followed after Pan, but Landon lingered behind a bit.

"Twenty dollars says it'll take thirty minutes." He slapped his money into Ubuu's palm as well. Paris laughed.

"I'm with the psychologist." She admitted, throwing in a ten dollar bill.

"I'm crushed." Goten pouted. "You're my wife and she's my niece. I think I know her better than he does."

"He's got a doctorate on reading people." Paris shrugged, following after the girls.

The boys laughed as they made their way to the gates.

* * *

Trunks was following behind Pan, had been since they entered the amusement park, and every now and then he bumped the heels of her sandals with his shoes. She was trying her best to ignore him but she couldn't quite get herself to. Sighing, she sped up and went around to one side of Bra. 

"Tell stupid that if he doesn't get away from me I'm liable to lose control." Pan stated calmly, eyes flaring despite her tone. She was looking at Bra expectantly.

"You know, telling someone to talk to Trunks for you is just like talking to him." Bra informed, hoping that this would keep Pan from asking her to relay a message to her brother again, when he could hear her just fine.

"I'm not afraid of you, Pan." Trunks informed her, the both of them ignoring Bra entirely.

"Tell stupid that I'm not listening to him or talking to him."

"Pan," Bra nearly shouted, drawing in a deep breath to keep from absolutely killing the girl. "Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"And stop calling me stupid." Trunks continued. "It's annoying and it makes you sound so juvenile."

"The both of you sound juvenile right now. And I'm sick of listening to you bicker. It's only been seven minutes. How in the world did the two of you manage to give me a migraine in seven minutes when one of you isn't speaking to the other? This is ridiculous." Bra exclaimed, throwing her hands up in surrender.

"Now you'll think seriously about the closet idea, won't you Bra?" Paris intoned, slowing down so that she was nearer to the girl. Bra was sandwiched in between Trunks and Pan, the rest of the group was ahead of them.

"Screw the closet. I'm going to shove them on the Farris Wheel and pay the guy operating it to take a twenty minute break while the controls mysteriously malfunction."

"Well, now you can't, since you just told us your plan." Trunks remarked smartly.

"And I don't know what everyone's problem is anyway. It's not like I _asked_ Trunks to come in a bad mood. I haven't done anything to him all day." Pan defended herself.

"All day?" Trunks asked incredulously. "You've been goading me since I picked you up this morning. Pan, be serious here."

"I am being serious, Trunks! You-" The smirk on Trunks' face stopped the words before they had a chance to complete the sentence. "Damn."

Ubuu snickered and patted his back pocket, signaling that he was keeping the money because he had won the bet. Landon, Paris, and Goten groaned simultaneously.

"I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day, after this, I mean it." She stated adamantly. "You've been insulting me for thirty minutes. I don't know what's wrong with you."

"I have not been insulting you. You've been annoying me on purpose. Don't deny it."

"Why don't we all split up." Marron suggested, looking at Bra apologetically.

"That's a great idea." Bra agreed, grinning. "We'll meet back in two hours. Okay?"

"Fine." Pan agreed. "I'm getting on the Minder-Binder. Don't say anything else to me, Trunks." And she turned to head to the roller-coaster line, Trunks following behind her.

"Don't be so sensitive." He insisted, stopping in the line behind her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "You know you're my favorite person in the whole wide world."

She leaned her head back on his shoulder as he said the words and, for the first time, he felt his stomach jump while she was in his arms and he knew it wasn't nerves before the roller-coaster ride.

"Well then stop being so mean. I'm always nice to you."

"Yes ma'am." He told her unsteadily as the line moved.

Shaking the feeling off, he let her go, and they moved forward in the line. That had been nerves, he convinced himself, and nothing but nerves.

He believed it and thought nothing else of it for the rest of the day.

The ride back was smoother than the ride there, for which both Paris and Goten were thankful. They had been dealing with Trunks and Pan's drama for at least a year now, but it had never been this bad before. Usually they argued or flirted until everyone felt a little nauseated and then they left each other alone. Today they had given every body a stomach ache and the group had to separate to get away from them.

Something seriously had to be done about the two of them but no one was sure exactly what was to be done. They were both so stubborn they refused to realize that they practically were in a relationship and didn't even know it. Pan spent more of her time with Trunks than anybody else, they knew each other's little quirks, and they practically lived in the same house.

Paris hadn't been kidding or exaggerating when she said they acted more like a married couple than she and Goten. They seriously did. To make matters worse, Paris couldn't remember the last time either of them had been with anybody else for more than one or two dates. It was getting a little more than ridiculous.

"You coming over for a couple of games tonight, Goten?" Trunks asked, having finally convinced Pan to sit in the back with Paris.

"Nah," Goten shook his head negatively. "I think I'm just going home. I've got an early day tomorrow at the office." Goten was an insurance claim representative.

"You're getting old, man." Trunks joked, shaking his own head. "It's all right though, I'll just kick Pan's butt again."

"Again?" Pan questioned indignantly. "I don't ever remember you kicking it the first time."

"Don't play dumb Pan, it's not attractive." Trunks looked at her through the rear-view mirror.

"Whatever idiot. I'm only coming over if you help me organize my lesson plan for next week."

"No way." Trunks shook his head. "Absolutely not. You have the most boring job in the world."

"Oh, yeah right, Mr. President of Capsule Corporations. Like your job is more exciting."

"More exciting than History? Uh...Yes." She could practically _taste_ his eyebrows lifting in amusement, she knew him so well.

"I think not. But, anyway, I guess that means you'll have to beat yourself in whatever game you had in mind."

"So...let me see if I understand this correctly..." Trunks pieced together. "You're _not_ coming to my house tonight?..."

"Nope."

"Pan,"

"Trunks,"

"The both of you," Paris' eyes had widened during the verbal-play and her head was spinning again. "Give it a rest. Gees."

"This is how most of our conversations go, Paris. You should know that by now." Pan told her earnestly.

"I _do_ know. It's just extra annoying today, so please stop it. You both know that you're going to his house tonight. And Trunks is going to help you with your planning."

"No I'm not." Trunks defended.

"And neither am I. I really do have to get this done."

"Then it's settled." Trunks informed Pan. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Maybe not."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just maybe not."

"Why maybe?"

"Just maybe not. I can't just say maybe not? I have to have a reason?"

"Pan,"

"Trunks,"

"The both of you," Paris intervened again. Goten groaned.

"Okay guys, do me a favor," Goten pleaded. They listened attentively. "Less talk. _A lot_ less."

The ride home was silent after that but Trunks was still brooding over Pan's 'maybe not'. What did _that_ mean?

_To be continued..._


	4. Forgetting and Remembering Too

Half-Crazy  
**Forgetting and Remembering too  
**Rated for language/situations  
_WitchyPrincess_

Seeing Pan became a thing of the past the closer it got to Spring Break, but Trunks was used to her disappearing around this time. She was busy with mid-term test making and grading and he wasn't surprised when she didn't show up for most of their game nights. That didn't mean, though, that he wasn't upset. More so, in fact, than usual. The fluttering feeling, at least, had not returned since the amusement park fiasco, so at least him having _feelings_ for her wasn't a possibility.

But they had been spending more time with each other than ever before, so her absence seemed more severe than it actually was because of it. Of course, he had a lot of work to make up for it so he could hardly complain of being bored. His office desk was always piled with another paper, another assignment, another client's paperwork. His secretary was always reminding him of another meeting, another decision, another appointment. That was probably another reason why he missed Pan's distracting presence. She kept his mind off all the demands of everything else.

Goten would be the best option for a distraction, naturally, but he was a married, working man and hardly had time. Pan only had to teach classes two days a week, while Goten went to work all five workdays of the week. Trunks went in at least four days out of six, of course, but he owned the company and hated his job so he tried to make his presence as limited as possible. His vice-president usually handled everything he wasn't there to do on those other two days–they were closed on Sundays.

He wasn't at work now, however, and today was the first day of Spring Break. Maybe Pan would step out of her coffin long enough to see the sun today. He laughed softly at his own joke, knowing it wasn't really funny, and flipped the T.V. in his room on. It wasn't long before he heard his front door swing open and closed and footsteps pounding on his stairs.

He knew who it was because she was the only one with her own key to his house.

"Hey, Wonx, miss me?" She struck a pose in doorway, throwing her hair behind her shoulders dramatically.

"The _world_ might miss you if you ever call me Wonx again." He informed her, laughter in his eyes despite himself. It was what she called him as a toddler because she couldn't say 'Trunks' properly.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Her smile could have taken a gay man's breath away. Or maybe he was just telling himself that to justify the reason his heart skipped a beat when she shot it in his direction.

"So you finally decided to visit the world of the living." He teased as he sat up on the couch, making room for her. She laid down across it anyway, so he didn't know why he bothered, and threw her legs into his lap like she always did.

"I've got all the mid-terms done now."

"Finished, professor. You have all your mid-term grades finished now." Trunks mocked. She play slapped him on the arm and rolled her eyes.

"Why didn't you order pizza?"

"I didn't think you were coming."

"Liar." She pouted. "You knew I was coming. Don't pretend."

"I didn't. And it was your turn to pay for it so I didn't want to waste my money if you weren't going to be here." He fought very hard not to laugh.

"You are the cheapest billionaire I've ever met in my entire life, Briefs."

"Ouch, Pan, that hurts."

She scoffed. "Yeah right. Like you have _emotions_."

"Actually, I was talking about your shoes, they're digging into my thigh." He laughed as she jammed her foot harder into his leg, gripping her ankles in self-defense and ripping her tennis shoes off.

"Now go get the door." He commanded after wrestling her shoes off her feet. The doorbell rang right after he spoke the words. "And I hope you brought money 'cause it really is your turn to pay."

"Yeah, well, I didn't. So there better be money sitting on the dining room table."

He didn't bother to respond because she knew there would be. There always was; she _always_ forgot to bring money when it was her turn to pay. That was one of the things that he could depend on about her. More often than not, she remained consistent in her routine and sometimes he was sure that she was the only thing that kept him grounded.

"This one's got pineapples on it. I think I might be in _love_ with you. Marry me and have six of my children, why don't you?" Her mouth was already half full of pizza as she made her way back into his room, with her hands just as full.

"Five, only if we can sell three of them to the glue factory, and you've got yourself a deal." He smirked, stealing the boxes from her hands. He sat the pineapple pizza aside because he thought it was the most disgusting thing he had ever heard of, but he knew she loved it.

"Only two in the glue factory." She argued, throwing herself back on the couch and resting her back against his shoulder.

"Okay, I've got the ultimate deal. Six children and four in the glue factory."

"Three."

"Fine. You drive a hard bargain."

"Yeah, well, so do you." She commented as she leaned up to take a slice of meat-lovers from his box.

"It's part of the job description for me. What's your excuse?" He snatched the pizza that she had just grabbed out of her hands and swallowed almost all of it before she could stop him. She yelped and threw her body on top of his, trying to wrestle what was left of the pizza away from him.

"Get off me Satan!" He commanded, tickling her sides as he swallowed the rest of his food.

Giggling, she shook her head and fought back, digging her knees into his waist. "Never!"

They wrestled for about ten minutes before Pan got tired and went back to her pineapple pizza. Trunks laughed manically, stole the belt from around her jeans, and ran around the room holding it up above his head. While he belted "WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIENDS," at the top of his lungs, Pan leaned over and stole the rest of the pizza that he had protected so adamantly, packing it inside her mouth like a chipmunk. Her cheeks were full when Trunks returned, and his pizza box was empty.

"I hate you." He remarked dryly, taking his seat again. "And there's only cheese pizza left."

"You can have some of my pineapple pizza." She taunted through full cheeks.

"I don't want any pineapple pizza." He refused, pouting. "And, apparently, neither do you. Next week I'm going to conveniently forget to order pineapple and get two meat lover's instead."

"And I'm going to conveniently forget that I'm not supposed to kill you." She pushed him playfully, swallowing some more of the pizza.

Trunks pouted, poking out his bottom lip in annoyance.

"Aww, do you want some?" She teased, sticking out her tongue so that some of the chewed up pizza was still up there.

He glared and contemplated dropping her off the top of the world, but came up with a better idea. A devious glint taking over his eyes, he leaned over, pulled her body to himself, nodded, and bit the tip of her tongue. She yelped and hopped up, nearly choking on the rest of the pizza, and glaring daggers at him.

Forcing herself to swallow, she pushed her shoulders back and made sure that she didn't start laughing on accident. With as straight a face as she could, she started to chastise him. "That _was not_ funny, Trunks. You _jerk_. I nearly choked to death. And it _hurt_."

"That was the whole purpose of my plan." He smirked.

"I'm going to remember that, Trunks."

"And I'm going to remember that you ate my pizza."

"I offered you mine."

"I don't _want_ yours. I'm allergic to pineapples."

"You are not."

"I might as well be. I hate 'em so much."

"You're ridiculous."

"_You're_ ridiculous."

"_You_ bit my tongue."

"_You_ stole my pizza."

"_You're_ allergic to pineapples."

"That's not true!"

"Well...then..._You're _a liar who said he was allergic to pineapples!"

"_You _stole my pizza."

"_You _bit my tongue."

"_You_ want to marry me and have six of my children." He triumphed.

"I _do not_! I want _you_ to have six of _my_ children." She corrected.

"Oh. Well..._you're_ going to sell three of them to the glue factory." He countered.

"That was _your_ idea!" She clarified.

"Yeah? Well...You..." He stuttered.

"Yeah?"

"You..."

"You lost." Pan stated triumphantly, smirking.

"You stole my smirk." He pouted.

"Awww. You want it back?" She teased, still smirking. The smirk died on her lips when she remembered what had just happened when she asked him if he wanted something else back.

He then revived his smirk and wore it proudly. "Thank-you." He remarked, eyes glinting.

* * *

"Did you bring Mario Cart?" Trunks asked, taking out Perfect Dark and looking at Pan expectantly. Her sheepish expression was answer enough for him to glower at her in response. "Pan," 

"I forgot, okay?"

"What if it's not okay?" He tempted.

"Well, it'd better be because there's nothing I can do about it now."

"Sure there is," He nodded, putting on his best hopeful look. "You can go home and get it."

"I'm not going all the way home just so you can play a stupid Mario game. Wait until next week. What's the big deal?"

"I only get game night once a week." He complained, looking as disappointed and pitiful as he could manage. "Would you do that to me?"

"With pleasure, actually."

"Pan,"

"Trunks,"

"Why don't you ever do anything for me?" He forced himself to sound helpless and begging. He knew that she would cave if he played his cards right.

"Forget it. I'm not going all the way home. Don't even try that 'once a week' crap with me. I'm here almost every night. I'll bring it tomorrow."

"You'll forget again."

"I'll remember."

"You won't."

"If you don't shut-up, I'm going to forget to remember and remember to forget, and I won't bring it at all."

"..."

He blinked heavily at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying to him. "You'll...what?..." He questioned.

"Forget to remember and remember to forget."

"Stop it."

"You stop it." Pan commanded.

"You're the one doing it." Trunks complained.

"I haven't done anything."

"Stop confusing me, Pan. Do you know what you haven't done? You haven't made sense, that's what you haven't done." He walked back over to the couch and sat down on her legs because she was stretched all the way out on it, as usual. Nudging her hips suggestively, he formed his biggest puppy eyes at her. "Please?"

"I hate you, Trunks. Now get off of me."

"Only if you're getting up to go home and get Mario Cart for me."

"If I go home I'm not coming back here tonight."

"It's almost twelve o'clock so, technically, you wouldn't be coming back until tomorrow."

"No."

"Pan,"

"Trunks,"

"Stop doing that." He complained. "I can never whine without you whining back. Next time I whine, you let me do it in peace."

"I let you whine all you wanted about my eating your pizza."

"You could pay me back by going to get that game."

"Or, I could ignore you and go to sleep on your couch."

"While I'm sitting on your legs?"

"Why not?"

"If you fall asleep I'm going to bite you again."

"Where?" She asked mischievously, a glimmer in her eyes that he couldn't see.

"Don't be disgusting."

"You suggested it. It's not like I would enjoy it. I was just wondering where."

"_Sure_."

"Trunks, get off me."

"Pan, don't pretend like you don't like it when I'm on top of you. I know what you're thinking about right now."

"Oh yea," she teased. "And what's that?"

"Getting in your car, going home, and bringing Mario Cart back to my house."

"That's so far off base, I don't even know what to call it."

"Out of bounds?"

"That's an understatement." She responded dryly.

"Pan, if you love me, you'll do this."

"Trunks, if you love _me_ you'll get off of my legs."

"Not until you tell me you're leaving."

"Fine. I'm leaving."

"You're not going anywhere."

"That's because you're still on my legs."

"That's because you haven't told me that you're coming back."

"That's because I'm not."

"Well. That's probably because you're not leaving."

"And why aren't I leaving?"

"Because I'm not getting off your legs."

"And _why_ aren't you getting off my legs?"

"Because you're not coming back."

"That's because I'm not leaving."

"Now I'm confused."

"That's because,"

"Shut-up."

"I hate it when you end conversations that I'm winning." Pan responded, amusement in her voice. Trunks sighed heavily, not saying anything but knowing she would get the point.

She didn't try and fight with him again...verbally. She twisted her body instead, until she was laying on her back and he was sitting on her hips. He sighed and angled his body so that he could continue to weigh her down, straddling her waist with his legs.

"Trunks," She complained, her voice just the right pitch of 'whine'.

"You stole my pouting." He told her finally, in a whiny tone.

"You want it back?" Her bottom lip was still poking out.

He nodded, and she realized that his eyes were serious. He really had taken his pizza back when he'd said that he wanted it back. "I forgot." She whispered as his body moved closer to hers.

He didn't stop but, when his lips came closer, he whispered back, "I remembered." And captured her pout in between his teeth before gentlykissing it away.

_To be continued..._


	5. Pretending to Pretend

Half-Crazy  
**Pretending to Pretend and Drinking Happiness - **_dedicated to **ladybugg** and her unborn children._  
rated for language/situations  
_WitchyPrincess_

"Raise that end up a little higher." Rosalia directed, pointing her manicured finger up towards the left-end of the banner. Stepping back, she formed a picture frame with her fingers and titled it to the side, staring contemplatively. After a few more moments of squinting she finally sighed and nodded for Trunks and Ubuu to step down from their ladders. "Perfect."

Trunks and Ubuu shot looks at each other that spoke volumes as the woman adjusted a strand of her chocolate hair and sent the boys an appreciative smile.

"I can't tell you how much your help means to me. I just know Paris is going to love this." Ubuu smiled politely while Trunks busied himself with picking the lent off of his sweater and nodding distractedly.

"It's no problem Mrs. Varease. I'm sure both Goten and Paris will enjoy it." Ubuu supplied, noticing that Trunks wasn't going to respond. A moment of awkward silence later, both boys had found a reason to excuse themselves from the overanxious woman. Paris' mother was another Bulma or ChiChi and any excuse to get away from more party planning was a good excuse.

Trunks saw Pan the moment she stepped into the room and used that as his reason to get away, claiming that he had something important to discuss with her. Ubuu gave him a 'knowing' look and backed away as well, saying that he had to make a phone call and asking Mrs. Varease if she minded.

Trunks approached Pan unsurely because things had been awkward since he had kissed her, almost a week before. They had both been pretending it hadn't happened, for the most part. At least, he had been pretending to pretend but it wasn't working too well for him.

"Hey Potato-Chip." He teased, pinching her cheek as a form of greeting.

"Not funny. _Wonx_."

Dark purple really was a very good color on her. She must have noticed because she was wearing it well. He swallowed, so as not to lose his train of thought in the design of her pants-suite.

"Funny? Me? Never."

"At least you recognize it." She retorted dryly, looking around the room. "Hey, this looks nice. Did you and Ubuu do it all by yourselves?"

"Nah, Mr. Varease had to help too. It was actually quite a show, you should have seen it." There was a glimmer in his eyes that tipped her off.

"What did you do to the poor man?"

"Nothing." He answered innocently. "I was merely referring to how amusing it is to watch a man try and figure out how a certain decoration got into a certain spot because he hadn't seen it happen."

"_What_ did Paris tell you about using your powers around her parents?" Pan whispered, half-amused, half-scandalized. "Trunks, I don't believe you."

"They didn't know what was going on."

"It wasn't very smart. Or safe."

"It's done now."

"You're a horrible person."

They glared at each other for a few seconds before a blasting radio distracted them from each other's eyes.

"Sorry," They heard Mr. Varease apologizing through the microphone. "We're checking the speakers. This could take a while."

"Want to take a walk?" Pan suggested, holding out her arm without requiring an answer. Trunks accepted and led her to the doors, not wanting to hear the random blasts of noise that they knew would accompany a 'sound check'.

"I can't believe they've been married for five years." Pan remarked as they began circling the pond in the backyard. "It seems like only yesterday. I mean, I don't feel five years older than the day they married."

"That's because you're still four years old at heart."

"Oh shut-up. You're more juvenile than me and you know it."

Trunks contorted his face until it was of the most offended nature and said in a seriously astounded tone, "Name a time."

Pan scoffed. "Oh, please. You only want _one_ time?"

"You can't even give me one. Don't pretend."

She 'humphed' and pulled her arm away from his. "What about that time you stuffed the Thanksgiving turkey with costume blood and tissue paper to get everyone to think it was uncleaned when your mother carved into it?" She questioned accusingly, laughter lacing her voice.

He shrugged it off, shaking his head. "You can't prove that was me."

"Oh, yeah, because it could have been _anyone else_."

"Yeah, well, it at least could have been Goten. Or _you_." He eyed her wearily. "You haven't proven yourself innocent."

"I didn't do it, Trunks."

"Give me one good reason why I should believe you." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I had to help prepare that dinner. The last thing I would do would be ruin it."

"That only gives you opportunity _and_ motive. I know how much you hate to cook."

"I love cooking," she challenged, biting her bottom lip.

"Liar. And whatever poor, starving man gets stuck with you better have money enough to afford a chef because I doubt you'll ever serve him _anything_ decent."

"My husband will cook for himself, thank you very much. And he won't consider himself _stuck_ with me either. Not all men are like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He challenged, halting his footsteps before circling the pond again. "I'm no different than most men."

"I said not _all_ men, not most men. And...nothing. It meant nothing."

"But Pan-"

"We'd better get back inside."

It was her rigid stance when she turned away from him, more than anything else, that told him exactly what he had been wondering since the Unfortunate Affair–as he had been referring to the kiss inside his head lately. She was pretending to pretend too.

"You still haven't named a time," he joked, trying to lighten the mood as he followed after her.

"Okay," he could hear her smile without seeing it. "What about the time you replaced the candles on your sister's birthday cake with fireworks and nearly burned down half of Capsule?"

"Again, I was never convicted guilty of any such thing."

Her laughter started in the pit of her stomach and rolled all the way through her body. It was an unrecorded symphony to his ears; for the first time in his life he held an appreciation for something that had in no way been intended to benefit him. It was still echoing inside his head thirty minutes into the party. And it was the first time that he realized that there might just be a problem here.

* * *

He spent the rest of the party a safe distance away from her, knowing both that she needed time to cool off and that he needed time to sort his thoughts out. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him that no amount of 'sorting' was going to help in a situation like this because one couldn't control things that had already begun taking place, especially things like _feelings_, but he was willing to try anyway. 

He had prided himself on not being a man who resisted a good fight. He was Saiyan, after all. And it seemed that trying to ignore his feelings was going to be challenging business, possibly for the both of them. The thought intrigued him and made him wonder exactly how many of these feelings she was fighting off herself.

If she was even fighting them off.

Maybe she was just upset that he had taken advantage of a situation like that. Or maybe she was just angry with him in general. She might just be confused and surprised that he hadn't addressed the issue directly. Whatever the reason, however, he found it surprisingly easy to avoid her for the majority of the evening. It seemed that they had both gotten the same idea: stay away from each other as much as possible.

That goal, of course, was easier said then done since most of his family, her family, and even Paris' family expected them to be attached to the hip for some reason. And acting contrary to that popular expectation suggested something odd going on which, he knew, would immediately alert his mother, her mother and grandmother, and her father, like some sort of soap-opera drama gone wrong.

He groaned softly under his breath as he made his way to his designated spot at the dinner table, right next to her. He felt her looking at him through the corner of her eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"A toast," he suggested a moment later, after everyone had settled. "To Goten and Paris. For five years of pain and suffering, survived like pros." Everyone laughed easily at his joke. Everyone but Pan, that is, who cut her eyes at him and crossed her legs as a sign of discomfort.

"To Goten and Paris," she countered, sending Trunks a pointed look. "For five successful years of _love _and _happiness_."

He could almost hear the italics in her sentence. It made him grit his teeth and grin with a falsely pleasant intensity at her as everyone else murmured their agreement and toasted with her as well. Her smirk–_his_ smirk–rubbed it in. He said nothing, but raised his glass along with everyone else and drank to her toast as well.

"To happiness," he murmured, sure that only he could hear his sarcasm. That didn't stop her from shooting him a dark look and shifting uncomfortably in her seat next to him. This was going to be a _long_ night, he could tell by the stiffness in her body as she looked anywhere but at him. All through dinner they spoke to each other only through group conversations and successfully aroused everyone's suspicions as to why they were being so distant and awkward with one another.

All through dinner they had a silent, unspoken contest over who could drink the most 'happiness' as she had called it, neither one of them wanting to be the loser.

Trunks gave up before Pan did.

* * *

He rolled his eyes at her blatant disregard of his directions. Right foot first, he'd said, then left. But, in her state, she probably couldn't even remember where her feet were located, much less which one was right and which one left. This was only amplified when she looked into his eyes and inquired which of her feet had done something 'naughty' and deserved to be classified as 'wrong'. 

He rolled his eyes.

"Not wrong Pan, left."

"What's left?"

"Your foot."

"What was there before it?"

"What?"

"What?"

He rolled his eyes again. What was she _talking_ about? "Pick your foot up now, Pan. Up."

"What's up?" Then she giggled. "Haha. What's up?" The second time was more for her amusement than questioning to him, as if she were repeating a really funny joke for the benefit of hearing it again.

Trunks sighed and decided that they would never make it inside his garage this way, much less his actual house, so he decided to pick her up instead. He leaned down slightly, making sure to hold onto the arm that he had instructed her to drape across his shoulder upon getting her out of the car so that she could keep her balance, and secured his other arm around her knees, cradling her like a small child.

She giggled again and buried her head into the crook of his neck.

Her breath tickled him as he made his way into the house, reminding him again of the reason they had been avoiding each other in the first place. And now, _now_, she was stuck at his house while she was amused at everything and very, very drunk. He had told everyone that he didn't think this was a good idea.

He had told Gohan to take his daughter home, had pleaded with Videl to keep Pan while she was drunk. But somehow, Trunks didn't even remember how, the girl had gotten pawned off on him. It could possibly be because he didn't have to work tomorrow.

Or because Pan did have to work tomorrow and that meant she needed to get to her apartment in the morning. His house, lucky for him, was the closest to her apartment. This had seemed to everyone else the most logical conclusion.

It was ludicrous in his opinion. Especially because she had just moved her head from side to side, running her nose very gently across the expanse of his neck and causing the small hairs all over his body to stand on end.

Any person with half a brain should have known that the two of them didn't need to be alone tonight. His only solace, as he made his way into the house and kicked the door closed behind him, was that Pan was so drunk she would probably pass out soon.

It was then that he heard the light snoring issuing forth from the body in his arms, and felt the weight he was carrying become slightly heavier, and he knew his prediction had just come true.

He thanked Dende for the small blessings.

Now, to get her out of her clothes, into pajamas, and in a warm bed. That, he knew, was going to be the tricky part...

_To be continued..._


End file.
